


Svengali

by Avelys



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Minor Kim Joonmyun | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Park Chanyeol-centric, Suicide Attempt, past!krisyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelys/pseuds/Avelys
Summary: If it hadn’t been for Chanyeol, Baekhyun never would have been heard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Exolimelight.

Transience is the natural way of the world. The breeze, the ocean mist, the waves, the texture of the sands, the weather- all these things are mercurial. Even the sturdy stones that the sea beats against relentlessly are not eternal, and eventually crumble under the inexorable onslaught of time. Any observer of the world should easily realize that change is at once a suggestion and a universal law, and that most things respect it.

And Luhan is this close to ripping his hair out, because Chanyeol is apparently not most things.

“Luhan,” Chanyeol says, his voice level and placating. “Put down my phone.”

Shaking his head wildly in refusal, Luhan instead says, “You’re going to thank me for this, Chanyeol. It’s been five years now, and it’s high time you moved on.”

“I know that’s what you think,” Chanyeol replies apprehensively. “But Tinder is hardly the answer. It’s not going to help me with moving on. It won’t help me with anything other than a boner.” If that. He has a limited experience with dating apps himself, but if his friends are to be believed, there is much more catfishing happening than hooking up.

“I’m not asking you to start anything,” Luhan reasons through clenched teeth. He gesticulates wildly in a futile attempt to punctuate his point, but only succeeds in resembling a deranged baboon. “But you’re miserable. Pathetic. And you need to get laid. Like, as soon as possible.”

Chanyeol, his lanky form splayed on the couch like a languid slug, peers at his friend over his laptop, looking as amicable as ever. “I think I’m just fine,” he says with an easygoing shrug. “It’s not like, you know, I’m dying or anything. I’m just not ready right now.”

Alright, so maybe Luhan is being a bit of a drama queen. And maybe Chanyeol isn’t quite in dire straits just yet. His friend is something approaching a well-adjusted individual. And while the burns left behind from the infamous-yet-mysterious breakup five years ago haven’t completely faded, the scars don’t really impede Chanyeol all that badly.

“Look,” Luhan tries, crouching so he’s eye to eye with his friend. “You’re absolutely right. You aren’t struggling. You’re not dying. You’re functional. The thing is, you aren’t really living your life either. All you do is eat, sleep, and do that job you hate. Clubbing is a no-go, because it reminds you too much of Yifan. You even gave up music.” He stops to take a breath, and holds up a hand to preempt the retort Chanyeol is just dying to spew. “You function. But it’s not exactly living, you know? It’s more like you’re in the nebulous realm between ‘living’ and ‘walking corpse.’ I miss you. The guys miss you. You should hang out with us again sometime.”

The two of them sit in a weird ass silence for a few moments, before Chanyeol smiles rather cheerfully. “That was long- winded,” he notes meanly. “Did you come up with that yourself?”

Luhan scowls. He knows he’s not the sharpest of knives, but that was utterly uncalled for. “Oh fuck you-”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, alright,” Chanyeol relents, turning his attention back to his laptop.

“Yes?” Luhan blinks, scarcely believing his ears. Though each intervention is a sincere attempt to bring his friend out of his shell, it is the fifth in as many years, and with its ill-fated predecessors in mind, Luhan had not held out much hope for success. His friend’s capitulation stuns him, and for a few moments, he is rendered utterly speechless.

It doesn’t last very long however, and Luhan lets out a few extremely loud and obnoxious whoops, much to Chanyeol’s chagrin.

“Clubbing, this Friday,” he informs the other while backing out of the room toward the door. “I’ll text you the address when we decide which one. Don’t you dare back out on me, Park Chanyeol.”

Already regretting his decision to humor his friend, Chanyeol doesn’t bother to dignify the implied accusation with a real response. He just lazily salutes, without looking up from his computer.

-

It’s the same old song and dance.

Even before hearing the words, Baekhyun knows that they are coming. He sits numbly in his chair, keeping his eyes trained ahead, determined not to show even the tiniest shred of anxiety despite the heavy thumping of his nervous heart.

It’s the moment of truth. He’s made it this far, past the initial auditions and past the callbacks. But Baekhyun knows how it’s going to go. He’s been through it before.

“Look,” the agent says, and at the tone, any remnant of hope that may have been holding on dies in Baekhyun’s chest. The man before him is speaking kindly, and there’s a sympathetic look in his eyes, but it’s a familiar scene. After a few suspenseful minutes, the words that he’s expecting to hear follow. “It’s not that you don’t have talent. You do. Plenty of it. But there’s a trainee period, and then after that you’d have to wait until the company wants to debut a boy group. I’m going to be honest with you- at your age, you might not get the chance.

It’s not the first time he’s hearing it, but Baekhyun is just crushed. He’s in his fucking twenties, and is being told he’s too old to ever debut. He does his best to keep his face stoic, but the way his hands clench and unclench tightly betray the fact that he’s upset.

A numbing emptiness courses through his veins like a tidal wave, carrying with it his sense of purpose, his direction. As he stands, readying himself to leave, Baekhyun can’t help but think helplessly that he’s never felt this lost before. The rejection is nothing new, but it’s the first time that he feels utterly devoid of any hope.

Without his dreams, without his hopes, Baekhyun doesn’t know if he has anything left.

-

Chanyeol hears him before he sees him.

He’s strolling across a bridge overlooking the Han River, enjoying the crisp breeze and the fresh winter air. The snow makes walking a little difficult, but in Chanyeol’s mind, it’s a small price to pay to get away from the busy bustle of his life. It’s a far cry from the horrible rave he had just escaped, where there had been too much booze and too many bodies to clumsily bump into. He stretches as he goes, willing all the stress coiled within his body to magically vanish.

Good thing he didn’t have too much to drink, he reflects.

Halfway through the bridge, a recognizably human sound emerges. It is faint at first, but as he continues, it becomes clearer. There’s a wispy, wistful quality to it that stirs something inside him and intrigues him. Chanyeol has heard so many voices through the years- strong ones, beautiful ones- but there is something unbearably real and sad about this one, something that speaks of life and deep rooted sorrows.

A few more steps and the singer comes into view. A slight young man leans on the railings, singing to himself while staring out toward the horizon, where the grey and restless river meets the dark skies with an eerie intimacy. Small details like the fluffy scarf he wears and the puffy breaths that he emits are the first things to catch the eye. He looks lonely, standing there- it is very late, and they are the only two on the bridge. Chanyeol notes with alarm that the man is on tiptoe, and with the bridge’s reputation in mind, he hastens to the side of the other.

“It’s a gloomy day,” he says cheerfully, stopping a few steps away from the stranger. Chanyeol looks into the distance, thinking that the world indeed seems darker today than it had for a while, but smiles sunnily nevertheless. “But it isn’t Sunday.”

The stranger eyes him, a small and bitter smile drawing its way across his face. “Hey stranger. You heard me singing?” he queries, raising a single eyebrow.

Chanyeol nods in confirmation. “You’re pretty good,” he comments with a grin. “Ever thought about auditioning for something?”

It’s the wrong thing to say, because the small smile falls off the stranger’s face faster than a strike of lightning. He turns away, once more facing the river with an inscrutable expression. An uncomfortable silence pervades, and Chanyeol has to ignore the urge to fidget. 

He’s about to stammer something in an attempt to rectify the situation, but the other man sighs, and says simply, “It’s been a shitty day.”

Moments like these make Chanyeol wish he could be more like his friends- cheerful, able to read the situation and offer up the right things. It’s obvious that the other man needs words of encouragement, of optimism, but Chanyeol has been living a facsimile of a life for years, and he thinks that even if he tried sincerely, the words wouldn’t roll off his tongue without reeking of awkwardness. So all he can do is step closer, and hesitantly pat the stranger on the back.

Close contact makes the other man tense, but only for a moment, and then he is relaxing as if Chanyeol hadn’t just invaded his personal space and made unsolicited contact in a sorry attempt to provide some kind of comfort. The smile is back on the pretty face, and it looks a little playful now, though still wan and tired.

“My name’s Baekhyun,” the man offers, stepping away from the railings, and Chanyeol feels his whole body relaxing as a soft sigh escapes him. 

Distantly hoping he doesn’t look too relieved, Chanyeol smiles back. “I’m Chanyeol,” he replies. The typical conventions of conversation are concepts totally lost on him, but from the way Baekhyun’s smile widens, it seems to be the right response. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Baekhyun starts walking then, motioning for Chanyeol to follow. The pace is steady and a little unsure, something like the tentative tendrils of acquaintance beginning to tangle between the two of them. The bridge is dark and bare, save for the warm glow of the yellow streetlights, and Chanyeol finds it rather difficult to think. It’s a little funny, he reflects, how he came here to get away from people, only to run into a person- but he doesn’t mind at all. Being here with Baekhyun, walking and talking with him- it seems all right for some reason.

“So what are you doing out here on the bridge so late?” Baekhyun asks, his tone curious.

Chanyeol doesn’t know how to tell the truth- that he had just wanted some time to himself- without offending Baekhyun, but he doesn’t want to lie. After a few moments of wrangling the words in his head, he manages to eke out a half-truth of sorts, “I guess I just wanted to think, you know. Seoul is a little too alive for that.”

A husky laugh. “I know what you mean.”

Silence fills the space between them, but it is comfortable rather than awkward. Chanyeol is itching to know what brought Baekhyun here, but even he has enough tact to recognize that it would be a supremely horrid idea to do so. If Baekhyun wants to tell him, then he will know eventually.

His patience is promptly rewarded. “You know how you asked me if I’ve ever thought about auditioning for something?” When Chanyeol nods, Baekhyun casually continues. “I failed another one today- too old, they said- and then when I got home, my girlfriend was gone.” The enormity of both things are not lost on Chanyeol, and he winces with sympathy for the other, utterly glad that he hadn’t pushed the topic himself.

“You want to be a singer?” Chanyeol decides to pursue the topic he deems less dangerous- if failing an audition is painful and messy, then failing in love is exactly so twice over, and that is something Chanyeol knows firsthand.

Baekhyun blows some air out between pursed lips, looking up at the sky. “Yeah. It’s a lifelong dream, you know? Singing is really fun, and it’s the only thing I know how to do. I didn’t exactly go through higher education, so…” A pause, and then a self-deprecating laugh. “Pretty stupid, actually. Never really saw myself doing anything else, and put all my eggs in one basket.” He kicks a rock and it skitters before them, making an unpleasant scraping noise. “My job barely covers the rent. I might be evicted sometime next week.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Chanyeol says, because he really does- it seems like only yesterday that he was living in a run-down rooftop flat, surviving on nothing but ramen and chips and hope. Living each day to the fullest without the security of tomorrow. It was a fucked up time, not one he would ever be keen on returning to.

Baekhyun looks at him curiously. “Do you really though? You’re wearing designer clothes; you obviously have money.” His face colors as he registers his own words. “Sorry, I wasn’t fishing for money. I have more pride than that.”

“No worries.” Chanyeol’s smile is faint. “And that wasn’t always the case,” he replies wistfully.

“Now I’m curious,” Baekhyun complains. “You can’t just leave it at that.”

“Well,” Chanyeol hedges. Though he doesn’t like to talk about his past much, he can’t see how it would hurt. “It’s the same old story, you know? A couple of kids living in the future, looking for the dream. We never worried about the present. Our priorities were all over the place. Looking back, I’m just glad everything turned out alright, because so much could have gone wrong.”

Sharp eyes study him. “Did you ever find that dream you were looking for?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol sighs. “But it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

Baekhyun looks out into the distance, and puffs out his cheeks. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he murmurs. “That I’ll have sacrificed everything to get to my dream, and it will all have been for nothing.” After a moment, he releases a sharp, self-deprecating laugh. “Of course, that’s all a moot point.”

They reach the end of the bridge then, the river behind them, and Baekhyun turns and looks at Chanyeol with a pretty smile. “Thanks for listening to my whining, and for talking to me,” he says. “I guess I just needed to air it out, you know? It was nice getting to know you.” He extends a slender hand for a shake.

Studying Baekhyun’s face, Chanyeol doesn’t respond. Though he cannot tell whether the man is older or younger or by how much, and despite the obvious hopelessness that clings to his shoulders like a heavy cloak, there is an overwhelmingly sharp vivacity that just emanates from his very being- a luminous glow, ever present in his wit- and Chanyeol finds that he wants to protect that quality, and keep the darkness of the world from diminishing it.

When he is greeted with only silence, Baekhyun’s face falls a bit, and he loses his expectant expression. “I’ll see you around, I guess,” he says uncertainly. Though he lingers for a moment, eventually he turns and slowly begins to trudge away, and that snaps Chanyeol out of his reverie: he finds that he cannot let Baekhyun leave. There is a brilliance in Baekhyun, a sort of luster- Chanyeol had gleaned that much from his manner, from his singing, from his story. It’s really beautiful, and Baekhyun had been about to toss it into the river. It would be a shame, he tells himself. So he calls him back.

“Wait a minute.”

The words freeze Baekhyun in his tracks, and he apprehensively turns, sending Chanyeol an inquisitive look.

“I could make it happen,” Chanyeol gulps, the words springing out weighty, clumsy, and all sorts of wrong. He knows that they make him sound like a greasy liar, but he nonetheless presses onward. “For you. I could make you a singer.”

Baekhyun’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks incredulously, the disbelief evident in his voice. He seems to be shaking a bit, but whether from anger, shock, or merely just the cold, Chanyeol is unable to determine.

“Isn’t it your dream? I know people. I could get you into a studio, a company, get you a contract, the works.” Chanyeol steels his expression into something firm, and fervently hopes that Baekhyun believes him- because he isn’t bluffing: he could make everything happen. “People owe me favors. I’m kind of a big deal,” he jokes.

Dark eyes bore into his, looking wary and uncertain at the same time. Luck is a fickle mistress, as anyone in the entertainment industry can attest- Chanyeol included. So he isn’t at all surprised that Baekhyun is suspicious of the opportunity offered- even to him, it sounds much too good to be true.

So before Baekhyun writes him off as a delusional and creepy nutcase, he holds out his hand and blurts his ace. “I told you my name was Chanyeol, right?” When the other man nods tersely, he continues. “Well, it’s Park Chanyeol.”

A gleam of recognition glimmers in Baekhyun’s eyes, and his mouth hangs slightly ajar. He seems unable to process the information fully, and it makes Chanyeol giggle.

“I can prove it too,” Chanyeol exclaims, and he fumbles through his pockets. He understands the importance of furnishing evidence, and that knowledge weighs down his fingers, making them feel numb and clumsy, but he eventually produces his wallet. He flips it open to show his identification card- it’s a few years old and a little bit worn, but unmistakable all the same.

His countenance bearing the visage of one questioning reality, Baekhyun looks up at Chanyeol, and this time his eyes are soft and wet. He opens his mouth a couple times, but words fail him, and he abruptly closes it. It takes him a few moments to choke out his next question.

“What’s the catch?” He gestures wildly, as if to clarify his nebulous point. “I mean, you’re not just doing this out of the goodness of your heart, are you?”

Chanyeol doesn’t read people well. He’s always been dense, unable to make sense of clues that knock him upside the head. But now Baekhyun is exuding some sort of quiet, fierce pride that hadn’t been there before- though it might be that pride he had previously alluded to- and Chanyeol thinks that, even if he were doing it out of the goodness of his heart, Baekhyun wouldn’t believe it- or might even straight up refuse.

And besides, it isn’t charity.

It’s not as if he is being totally altruistic. Chanyeol doesn’t know people, but he knows himself, and it is simple to recognize the miniscule undercurrent of possessive greed for what it is. Baekhyun is pleasing enough to see, but more than that, he is a star in the making- even as a beaten down reject trainee, there is something different about him- and it fuels something inside him that has been cold and dead for the longest of times. It’s not quite inspiration, but it’s close- for the first time in a long time, he feels like he wants to put his pen to paper, to ink the notes onto the staff sheet. To Chanyeol, it’s as if both of their destinies are converging.

He tamps down these complex thoughts as he formulates a reply. “Maybe I just want to see if you’ll get to where you want to be. It’s not like you have anything to lose,” he reasons. It’s a harsh thing to say, but from what he can surmise, Baekhyun’s life has hit rock bottom- he’s lost his girlfriend, failed an audition, and was on track to homelessness. “You’ve already given so much in your pursuit. What’s a little bit more?”

Baekhyun’s eyes flash. “I could go into debt if this is a scam,” he mutters darkly. “If you’re a criminal, I could lose my life.” He seems legitimately troubled, and though Chanyeol understands, it still sends a wave of frustration through him.

“But what you’re doing right now,” Chanyeol thinks aloud, “Could it even be called living, anyway?”

The silence is rife with uncertainty, but when Baekhyun grasps his hand, Chanyeol thinks that he has never been more sure of anything in his life.

-

Baekhyun stares down at his lap, watching absentmindedly as his hands wring and knead themselves. His mind is ablaze with possibility, but he is scared of being burned again by the searing edge of hope. It seems too fantastic to be true: what are the chances that he’d meet _the_ legendary Park Chanyeol?

Jongdae seems able to read his worries, because he scoots closer to give him a comforting pat on the back. “You don’t have to meet him,” he counsels. “It _does_ sound too good to be true. I can close up the shop, we can go somewhere else instead. Maybe to that brand new amusement park at the city center.”

At those words, Baekhyun quirks his lips, memories combing their ghostly fingers through the recesses of his mind. He remembers Taeyeon dropping hints that she wanted to go, particularly when the park was having a couple’s sale. Baekhyun had never had the time- had never _made_ the time- to go together, and when the sale ended, the hints had petered off into nothingness.

In hindsight, he hadn’t been a very good boyfriend.

He doesn’t think he can even _consider_ going now, not when the wound is still fresh and bleeding. It would be impossible to walk past rides and not think about how Taeyeon would have liked that rollercoaster, or how they could have held hands and shared cotton candy as they wandered around the grounds. Jongdae’s intentions are good, but the option that he is offering is really no option at all.

Shaking his head, Baekhyun forces a smile. “I’ll see this through,” he says, his voice infinitely more confident than he really is. “What if this is my chance? The ‘what-ifs’ would haunt me forever if I didn’t.” He affects the most determined look he can muster before meeting Jongdae’s eyes. “I’m used to disappointment anyway.”

His words come out a bit more pathetic than he means for them to, but they convey his feelings on the matter nevertheless. And thinking back to what the stranger on the bridge told him- it’s true. He has little left to lose anyway. The worst that could happen is that Chanyeol wouldn’t show up. A disappointment for sure, but he’d just be back where he started: with nothing.

-

The café where they had agreed to meet up at was a quaint, trendy place. While there were several posters advertising various drinks pinned to the walls and windows, it seems to Chanyeol that nearly every customer on the premises- mostly teenaged hipsters, it appears- is sipping some unappetizing variation of bubble tea. 

He’s about ten minutes late, and he is glad to see that Baekhyun still hasn’t left. He sits by the counter, looking a little pitiful as he stares blankly at the wall while absentmindedly stirring his drink with a chewed-up straw. Grinning at the sight, Chanyeol hurries up and seats himself beside Baekhyun.

“Hey Baekhyun,” he says wryly, reaching over to grab a menu from beside the cash register. “Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with Kyungsoo, and that held me up.”

Do Kyungsoo, CEO of D.O. Entertainment, has put out numerous top stars and successful acts. Chanyeol had met with him to negotiate a contract for Baekhyun- even though Kyungsoo had not met the man, he had been willing to humor one of his oldest friends. Luckily, Chanyeol had managed to wheedle him into coming to the meeting. The benefits of a long and close friendship were innumerable and tremendous. Hopefully, when he arrived later, they would be able to turn the hypothetical contract into an actual one.

“I thought you’d flaked on me,” Baekhyun informs him bluntly. His expression is less than amused, and it makes the other man feel extremely sheepish. “I’m still not a hundred percent convinced you’re who you say you are.”

Chanyeol laughs heartily at that, his eyes crinkling. “Well, Kyungsoo will be here in a few minutes to discuss a contract,” he said. “That’ll probably prove it to you, right?”

Apparently, Baekhyun finds this suspicious. “What about my audition?” he asks dubiously. “I still have to audition, right?”

“I told you, I have some sway in the industry,” Chanyeol shrugs. “You won’t have to audition and you won’t have a trainee period, so don’t worry about these things. Here,” he lays the menu flat and slides it between them, seeking to change the subject. “I haven’t been here before, so I don’t know what’s good. Any recommendations?”

Baekhyun’s lips twist into a wry smile as if he can see right through Chanyeol, but he leans in and pores over the menu. “Don’t get milk tea,” he cautions, his face contorting (no doubt revisiting a past experience.) “Teenagers like milk tea, but Jongdae makes it horribly sweet. I’d recommend the coffee or the hot chocolate.” He seems to think about it for a moment longer, before amending, “Just get the hot chocolate.”

Chanyeol makes a move to stand up and make his way over to the register to place his order, but the cashier raises a hand to stop him.

“I got it,” the man says cheerfully.

“Can you make that two?” Chanyeol asks. “There’ll be another person joining us later.” When the employee nods in understanding, Chanyeol responds with a grateful smile, before turning his attention back to Baekhyun. “So how have you been lately?” It has been a week since he and Baekhyun had first met, and he is a little curious as to what the other man has been up to during the interim.

Poking at the ice with his straw, Baekhyun looks thoughtful. “I’ve been looking for a job,” he says, a faraway look in his eyes. “I know you want to help me and all, but to be frank I don’t really put that much stock into offers from strangers. Plans fall through, things happen. There’s a chance you’re actually legendary songwriter Park Chanyeol,” he concedes, though the dismissive wave of his hand is a clear demonstration of his lack of faith, “But chances don’t pay bills, you know?”

Nodding to show that he isn’t offended, Chanyeol comments, “It’s always smart to have a backup plan.”

Baekhyun grins. “Right.” His face turns serious again immediately afterwards. “Look, if you aren’t _really_ Park Chanyeol, now’s your chance to come clean. I don’t think you’re a bad person, maybe that’s just what you thought I needed to hear, or whatever. I was in really bad shape that night, and-“

“Look,” Chanyeol interrupts. “Kyungsoo’s here.”

And he is. Standing in the café like an awkward penguin, Do Kyungsoo looks out of place with his fancy suit and his serious looking briefcase. All around, whispers abound- for all that Kyungsoo’s work is mostly conducted behind the scenes, he is nevertheless a very public figure. And judging from Baekhyun’s shocked face, one he is very familiar with.

“Over here, Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol calls cheerfully, waving energetically. Kyungsoo spots him immediately, and makes his way over with narrowed eyes.

“Holy shit,” Baekhyun mutters. His eyes are so, so wide and he looks exceedingly innocent this way. “You really _are_ Park Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol lifts an eyebrow. “I showed you my ID,” he points out amusedly.

“Anyone can fake an ID,” Baekhyun scoffs, “But this- holy shit, this is actually happening...”

Kyungsoo slides into the seat beside Chanyeol, and he watches the other two with a discerning glint in his features while setting up his laptop. “Hey Chanyeol,” he greets somberly, eyes as wide and unnerving as ever as they slide across to Baekhyun. “And I’m assuming that this is the person you were telling me about.”

“Yep.” Chanyeol lets the last consonant pop obnoxiously. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate that had been delivered sometime during Kyungsoo’s grand entrance, and exhales in the throes of true bliss that only a sugary drink could generate.

“I’ve been told that you’re pretty and you can sing,” Kyungsoo informs Baekhyun bluntly. “And that Chanyeol is willing to write and produce your entire album.” This gets Chanyeol a sharp look from Baekhyun, which he ignores in favor of fiddling with his mug. “Can you dance?”

Baekhyun scratches his head. “Uh… I mean, I can. I’m not the greatest, but I can.” He pauses. “Why, is it a deal breaker?”

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo types something. “It’s not essential- if you couldn’t dance, we could have always made you a balladeer or something. Or just keep putting you on music shows- like Sohyang, maybe. But it’s nice to know we have something to work with.” He types some more, seemingly preoccupied with the task at hand, but he does look up to ask the other two, “When’s the earliest you guys can get in the studio together? I’m hoping to have this debut ready to go by February at the latest.”

“Wow, this is going pretty fast,” Baekhyun notes. Though his speech has normalized, his expression is still dumbfounded, as if the world around him had knocked him upside the head. It’s an endearing look, Chanyeol thinks.

“I had to drop a trainee this month for legal issues,” Kyungsoo explains while furiously typing away, the perfect picture of efficiency. “She was going to debut as a soloist in late January. We still have all the shoots and promotions lined up, so it’s pretty fortuitous that Chanyeol came up with a backfill so quickly.”

Once again, all eyes are back on the giant, who has not once dropped his wide smile throughout the entire conversation. “The timing was very lucky,” he agrees amiably. “Like fate.”

-

“So what did you think of him?” Chanyeol asks. After they had finalized the details of the contract, Baekhyun had excused himself to hurry to his job, and the remaining two had decided to go home together in Kyungsoo’s limousine to further discuss the situation.

“He has a decent voice and nice visuals,” Kyungsoo says, “But he kind of lacks the charisma that top idols naturally exude. I wouldn’t look at him and think, this is a star in the making. We could probably polish him into something with time, but I have to admit, I don’t know what it is you’re seeing. It’s a good thing we’ll be able to generate excitement for this debut by putting your name on it- I don’t think Baekhyun has the pull to do so by himself.”

Chanyeol has a faraway look in his eyes. “I guess you just had to be there, you know? There was something about him that seemed really alive, even when he was all depressed. He seemed really down, and then when we started talking he just turned into this bubbly thing. I don’t know, I haven’t felt so inspired in years.”

Kyungsoo laughs a little. “Well, if it brings you back to the industry, it’s a good thing,” he notes, patting his friend on the back. “Tao is currently our main composer, but it’s really hard to pull off successful comebacks when the songs are ill-disguised odes to Gucci bags.” He shudders. “Thank the lord we can always depend on Soojung to come up with good concepts.”

Hearing this, Chanyeol bursts into laughter- but when Kyungsoo directs a frightening frown at him, he attempts to disguise it as an appropriately horrified noise.

-

Article: After a five-year hiatus, songwriter Park Chanyeol to compose and produce newcomer Byun Baekhyun’s debut.

1\. [+1786, -127] Hul… an album fully produced and written by Chanyeol would be daebak…

2\. [+948, -204] eh? why is Chanyeol working with a rookie? has his status dropped that much during his hiatus?

3\. [+532, -78] wow, look at that pictorial- Baekhyun’s visuals are glowing ㅠㅠㅠ

4\. [+173, -198] huh… nugu ㅋㅋㅋ

-

Of course, signing on at such a late notice would not make for a wholly smooth path. While D.O. Entertainment has state-of-the-art recording facilities at its disposal, there had been too many scheduling conflicts to utilize them. Feeling somehow responsible for Baekhyun’s success, Chanyeol had volunteered his own personal studio for consideration- while some of the equipment is a little outdated, they were still of a superior quality nevertheless, and he has no doubt of his own ability to wrangle listenable tracks from them.

He sits in the studio now, notepad in hand, listening to Baekhyun warm up his voice.

“You’re a tenor, right?” Chanyeol is almost sure he is, but there always exist anomalous voices that traverse the spectrum with relative ease. “Your voice sounds pretty light, and your lower range is mostly air. I don’t think we can really do heavy ballads yet.”

“I don’t know, really. I took some classes, but it was more on general technique and breath control than theory,” Baekhyun explains with a shrug. “I couldn’t tell apart a basso profundo from a double bassoon.”

“Point taken.” Nodding, Chanyeol jots down some quick notes about Baekhyun’s voice into the notepad. “I wish we had more control over the theme, but since you’re essentially a pinch-hitter, we’ll have to go with the concepts they had planned for the original soloist.” He looks up and scans the other man skeptically, before nodding thoughtfully. “It could work. You’re a bit old to do a pure concept, but you look innocent enough for it.”

Baekhyun smiles, but it is an apprehensive one. “Thanks, I guess?” Then he frowns. “Not sure how I feel about that actually.” And Chanyeol has to agree- overly youthful concepts always give him the creeps.

Chanyeol blows air into his cheeks as he thinks. “A song about first love,” he decides. It’s a generic theme, but it’s one that’s safe and constantly in demand. “A little cliché, but people really won’t care. That’s the power of tropes.” His eyes meet Baekhyun’s then. “Since it’s going to be your song, why don’t you tell me about your first love? If you can relate to the song, you’ll be able to put some sincerity into it. Sounding genuine is always a plus.”

His proffered idea is met with a fraught silence, and Chanyeol senses that he might have breached a delicate topic. 

“What do you want to know?” Baekhyun says at length. He’s looking at the ground now, and his expression is an impassive mask. His discomfort with the topic is palpable, and Chanyeol feels sort of like an ass for pressing the topic. 

But, he reasons, even the most sensitive of matters must be breached eventually. Blowing out his cheeks, Chanyeol considers- what exactly does he want to know? “Well, what about the dynamic? What sort of interactions did you have with each other?”

There’s no answer for a while, and Chanyeol is beginning to wonder if there ever would be one, when Baekhyun finally says, in a voice that is soft and quiet but brimming with unspoken emotion, “We used to be perfect. We were always together, we always did things together.” A faraway look gleams in his eyes. “Towards the end we didn’t spend much time together. We just… sort of drifted apart, I guess.”

They’re onto something here- breakup songs make for great ballads, so he tries to press the topic further. “What happened? Why did you drift apart?” His pen is poised, ready for the response.

Baekhyun presses his mouth into a thin line. “I didn’t make the time,” he answers flatly. “I was a really bad boyfriend okay?” Chanyeol is about to inquire further, but when he meets the other’s eyes, there is a haunted, brittle look in them, and he knows he’s pushed the boundaries too far.

And it’s a reminder- Chanyeol has been cooped up so damn long that he’s forgotten what is and what isn’t appropriate. Baekhyun, of course, has the prerogative not to answer. Though Chanyeol is frustrated with the lack of a real answer, he knows very well that he had overstepped his borders, knows that it would only make things more awkward if he pushed the topic any further. 

The subject is clearly a touchy one, if the fragile air about Baekhyun is anything to go by, and though Chanyeol thinks the other man might benefit from a cathartic experience, he does have enough sense to back down.

“Sorry, uh, you don’t have to tell me,” Chanyeol holds up his hands in a sign of surrender. “You’ve given me plenty of material to work with already,” he babbles. “You kind of drifted apart right? We can work with that. I came up with a melody yesterday, and I think it would be a _perfect_ fit for the song, I just want to get your opinion on it first and-” He clamps his mouth shut, hoping that he hadn’t made the situation even more awkward.

But then Baekhyun smiles a bit, and just like that, the atmosphere has thawed.

-

They don’t spend all their time together working- though Chanyeol is trying to carve a product out of Baekhyun, his efforts are first and foremost focused on fleshing out their friendship. Some days in the studios are just spent lazing around, talking and laughing and just generally _being._

And they’re not always cooped up and recording. Some days, when Chanyeol just wants a breath of fresh air to recalibrate his creative vision, they get out of the studio to kick it somewhere else. Jongdae’s café, a nearby park, at each other’s houses- they’ve spent so much time together recently that some of their friends get the wrong idea.

Like, immensely wrong. So, so wrong.

Chanyeol is working on the instrumental for one of Baekhyun’s tracks alone late one night when Kyungsoo slinks into the room, with all the grace of the deadly predator he is. Despite their close friendship, his presence makes Chanyeol anxious- at the workplace, it is difficult to discern whether an interaction is as an associate or as a friend. 

“How’s it coming along?” Kyungsoo’s tone is innocent enough, as are his inhumanly wide eyes, but Chanyeol has known him long enough to know better. Though he is far from a misanthrope, Kyungsoo is not one for needless socialization, and has always been one of the few who understood that Chanyeol works best unbothered.

It’s not suspicious in and of itself- entertainment companies, Korean ones especially, are notorious on keeping a tight rein on any and all creative output. But Chanyeol is a veteran songwriter- one still widely respected in the industry even after five years of nada- so the reason for the visit is at best a mere pretext. Nevertheless, he decides to play dumb.

“It’s a little difficult coming up with a sound that fits the concept but won’t box him in,” Chanyeol replies absentmindedly, tweaking the notes a bit. “What’d you think of the demo Baekhyun recorded?”

“I have to admit,” Kyungsoo replied, “It’s pretty good. Not a voice I would expect from someone you just pick off the streets. He needs a little fine-tuning, but it’s a much better situation than I anticipated.” He plops himself down on the chair next to Chanyeol’s, his face sporting a soft look that looks exceedingly alien on Do Kyungsoo. 

It's a look that makes Chanyeol uneasy. He doesn’t know what brought on this bout of sympathy, and to be frank he doesn’t really care: while not one to spurn kindness or pity, he feels that there is a time and place for such things, and to have them presented without much explanation discomfits him. Kyungsoo obviously has something on his mind.

Training his eyes on the smaller man in suspicion, Chanyeol halts his activities to handle the conversation instead. He decides to cut to the chase: he’d rather clear the air now and work on Baekhyun’s material further than to let a misunderstanding fester unattended. “What are you really here for?”

“I’m glad to see you’re moving on.” The look on Kyungsoo’s face is now earnest as well, and it brings a sinking feeling to Chanyeol’s gut. He knows what lies ahead.

He furrows his brows, and instead chooses to resume making adjustments to the track. He knows exactly what Kyungsoo is talking about, and while it’s a topic he’d very much rather avoid, he can tell that attempting to change the subject would do him little good. “I moved on years ago,” he claims, though he knows he is far from convincing.

“You’ve been a hermit ever since the breakup,” Kyungsoo points out. “You’ve been locked up in your shell. You quit your job because you saw Yifan everywhere, and that was too much.” A pause. “And I know that you've been getting better. Slowly, but progress is progress.” There is a glassy look in his wide, wide eyes, and his smile is doubly unnerving for it. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re dating again. Baekhyun is-“

“We’re not dating,” Chanyeol says embarrassedly. He does have an interest in Baekhyun, that much is true. But the truth is, he can’t discern whether it’s just a friendly interest, or something more. In any case, Baekhyun hasn’t shown much interest in him at all. “I- look, we’re friends. We’re still getting to know one another. I don’t even know if he’s gay, or- or bisexual, or whatever. Three weeks ago we were strangers.” 

“- good for you,” Kyungsoo finishes before Chanyeol’s words register. When they do, he narrows his eyes, though they remain creepily wide. “Oh. Sorry, I just assumed- you seem pretty close, and not many people would invest so much effort into building a career for a stranger.”

Well, when put like that, it does seem rather odd.

Chanyeol looks up to meet his friend’s eyes. “I’m doing it as much for me as I am for him,” he points out. “I want to help him out, but I also want to write music again. It’s just- when I’m around him, I feel the drive again, you know? I can’t really explain it.”

Kyungsoo nods. “So he’s your muse,” he determines. He looks as if he isn’t completely ready to abandon his theory, but is willing to humor his friend.

“If you want to call it that.”

A sly, level look. “Yifan was your muse as well,” Kyungsoo reminds him quietly. As if he could have ever forgotten.

Chanyeol looks away, unable to hold eye contact. “I suppose,” he replies noncommittally. He understands what his friend is implying, but he is determined not to read too much into the situation. He’d been hurt before, after all, and was in no hurry to feel that pain again.

Once bitten, twice shy. Or so they say.

Standing up, Kyungsoo pats Chanyeol on the back. “Whatever your relationship is, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. You’ve sent me pretty good material so far.”

When he hears the door closing gently behind his friend, Chanyeol drops all pretenses and cups his face with his hands, groaning. He isn’t really over it yet, but he thinks he can be. When Yifan left, he had taken with him all of Chanyeol’s creativity. After finding that all he could compose were monotonous torch ballads, he had quietly removed himself from the industry, choosing to retire early rather than tarnish his legacy with lackluster releases. But now, like a dam has burst, he feels inspired to write music- there is a throb in his veins that he hadn’t known to be missing.

He doesn’t know if it means that he’s moved on, but Chanyeol is feeling optimistic.

-

Following his encounter with Kyungsoo, Chanyeol finds himself much more conscious around Baekhyun. He knows that he feels something (even if he hasn’t been able to put a name to it just yet,) and he’s looking for clues as to whether Baekhyun would be receptive to his hypothetical interest. Observation, sadly, doesn’t yield very much; and he _could_ ask directly, but that’s not a hornet’s nest that he would like to poke.

Chanyeol hasn’t always been patient, but he’s always tried his best. In his experience, being patient is always the better course of action. And it holds true here.

On a rare day off, Chanyeol decides to go to an ice cream parlor. With the return of his songwriting ability comes the return of his workaholic habits, and it’s not until both of his nostrils are stuffed with tissues to staunch a nosebleed that he decides a break is well and truly in order.

He’s strolling around with his cone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, searching for appropriate seating, when he encounters a familiar face. Baekhyun is crouching by the corner booth, holding an empty sugar cone in his hand and mournfully gazing at what appears to be a scoop of ice cream dashed on the floor.

“Hey,” Chanyeol walks up to greet him. “Fancy seeing you here today.”

Baekhyun looks up with mock suspicion. “You’re not stalking me, are you?” There’s no real heat behind the accusation- he sounds tired, if anything, bone-deep weary.

Chanyeol laughs. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Standing up, Baekhyun takes a bite of his lonely cone, munching on it thoughtfully. “I was feeling kind of down, so I came here to pick myself up.” He glances down at the ice cream again, his expression one of utter sorrow and longing. “Off to an auspicious start.” He sighs, shaking his head sadly.

“Cheating on your diet?” Chanyeol teases. He knows that the company has no doubt placed Baekhyun on a strict diet, especially since the date of his debut is so close at hand. The industry is inundated with top visuals, and as a solo artist, Baekhyun must be able to compete with the best of them, at least to some degree. It’s not a practice he agrees with per se, but yielding to the demands of practicality is a necessity to succeed in this world. He’s realistic.

“What Kyungsoo doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Baekhyun replies quickly, a challenge in his voice.

“Whoa.” Raising his arms in mock alarm, Chanyeol tries and fails to suppress a grin. “I’m not going to tell on you, don’t worry.” Remembering the mopey expression that the other had been sporting mere minutes earlier, he adds, “I’ll even buy you another one, what do you say?”

The shorter man doesn’t even take any time considering the offer. “Who would say no to free ice cream?” he questions rhetorically.

Baekhyun ends up choosing a different flavor this time- the order is a decadent butter-pecan gelato drowned in rich chocolate syrup and topped with miniature chocolate chips. He probes it with shy little licks, barely noticing that the chocolate syrup is smearing all over the tip of his nose, and the resemblance to an overexcited puppy is so uncanny that Chanyeol finds it hard to stop staring.

“Do I have something on my face, or are you just staring for kicks?”

Chanyeol flushes, slightly abashed at being caught. Still- “You actually do have something. On your nose.”

Lazily, Baekhyun paws at his face with a small fist. “Oh, you’re right,” he murmurs after surveying the evidence. He looks up with a grin. “I’m disappointed. And here I thought you were checking me out,” he teases.

Chanyeol wants to say something in response, but can’t think of anything that isn’t awkward, so he keeps quiet. His throat is extremely dry anyway, and he doesn’t think trying to squeeze out a few indiscernible croaks is an appropriate response to anything.

Instead, he takes a swig from his water bottle.

After a few moments of silence, as if he simply cannot stand the lack of conversation, Baekhyun speaks once more. “My ex-girlfriend didn’t like ice cream all that much,” he exposits, “It didn’t mesh well with her diet. So I haven’t been to this place in a while.” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “They got rid of my favorite flavor while I was gone.” The look he shoots Chanyeol is so inappropriately melancholy that a laugh bubbles up from deep within him.

“She didn’t like ice cream? Must not have been the sweet type,” Chanyeol jokes lamely. His conversational skills are just not active today, and fuck- his throat is still dry. Another gulp of water.

The playfulness that had been in Baekhyun’s eyes is long gone, replaced by only a sad and faraway look, and it sobers the mood very quickly.

“No,” the reply is soft, as if the words are hesitant to emerge. “She was the sweetest.” He seems fine for a moment, then just sort of collapses. There are no tears, but he suddenly looks so frail and weary. “I just-,” he starts brokenly, but cuts himself off, seemingly choked up by emotion and unable to continue. After a moment of silence, he tries again- “We were together a long time, and she was a huge part of my life. I’d always imagined growing old together with her, and- well, now there’s a huge hole in my future and I don’t know how to fill it.” 

Sad people, Chanyeol thinks, are the most difficult to handle. Baekhyun looks so small- so lost- and it’s so clear that he’s looking for a reassurance of some kind. Having little to no skill with these things, Chanyeol feels helpless- like a sailor tossed and turned by rough winds, only the sailor actually knows how to sail. He can’t navigate this situation- the only broken heart he’s ever dealt with is his own, and he had ended up splintering into an even more jagged mess for a long time before he truly began to heal.

But the circumstances seem to call for some kind of intervention nevertheless, and he decides to bite the bullet. “Look,” he begins, his voice clumsy and unsure, palms sweaty as he rubs them down the sides of his arms. “You’re doing good. You’re moving on. Just a while ago you didn’t want to talk about your relationship at all.” He stops for a second to try and gather the right words, but it’s like trying to gather water in a sieve, so he just haltingly speaks whatever thoughts come to mind. “You say that you don’t know how to fill the hole- that’s okay. Because life fills it for you. Kyungsoo, me, any other new friends that you make- we’re small pieces. And we wouldn’t have fit before, but now there’s a space for us.”

Baekhyun stares at him as if he has three heads. “Okay,” he says with a brittle, but genuine laugh that makes Chanyeol’s chest feel warm. “For someone who looks so stupid, that was surprisingly deep.”

“I’m a songwriter,” Chanyeol replies dryly, trying to squish whatever it is that he’s starting to feel. “I’m deep sometimes. Kind of comes with the job.” 

“Whoa there, hold onto that ego,” Baekhyun laughs again, taking another bite of ice cream. “I said it was _surprisingly_ deep. As in, ‘I’m surprised you have thoughts of that complexity,’ not ‘wow, that was deep.’”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. Inside though, the butterflies are flying- he’d only ever been able to compose material of any real depth when he had been together with Yifan. The truth is, Chanyeol doesn’t do depth- hasn’t since his breakup. He’s less likely to get hurt if he keeps everything superficial. With his closest friends, he is willing to forego such precautions, and with Baekhyun it’s the same, but _different_. He doesn’t remember what falling in love feels like, but he thinks this might be close.

Distantly, he wonders if he is inspired because he is falling in love, or if he is falling in love because he is inspired.

He feels a little disappointed as well. Baekhyun clearly isn’t over his relationship, and clearly won’t be any time soon. Fidgeting in his seat, Chanyeol sighs. Perhaps it is to be expected- after all, he’s had years to deal with his breakup, while the other man has only had a fraction of that. 

He hasn’t always been good at being patient, but he’s had a lot of practice. When he looks at Baekhyun and feels warmth and excitement mingle within him, he thinks that some things are worth being patient for. Love, he thinks (and it’s just an uncertain thought, a wisp,) is something he can definitely wait for. 

When Baekhyun’s tongue licks another stripe down his scoop, Chanyeol’s eyes can’t help but follow its trajectory.

-

“You and Chanyeol have been hanging around a lot.”

Rather than keep paying for his apartment as a single man, Baekhyun had opted to move in with Jongdae instead. It had seemed like a good idea when he first thought it through: splitting the rent, good company, good food. Unfortunately, it was only after he had moved in that he remembered how nosy his friend could be.

With a groan, he flings a pillow at his friend in an effort to shut him up. It misses, of course, because Baekhyun is about as athletic as a couch cushion. “Can you not?” He asks, both amused and a little annoyed. “I know what you’re getting at; it’s not what you think.”

Raising an eyebrow and smiling his catlike smile, Jongdae sits down beside him. “I hadn’t even said anything,” he comments airily. “It’s funny how you jumped to that conclusion though. Have you been thinking about it much lately?”

“Stuff it, Jongdae,” he says, rubbing his face tiredly. “I’m not ready for a relationship yet. And even if I was, there’s no guarantee that he’s interested.”

“There are no guarantees in life,” Jongdae retorts. “That’s why you take chances. If there’s anything worth taking a chance on, it’s love. You _know_ how to make that leap, I don’t understand why you just won’t.”

Baekhyun hesitates. It’s true that he’s taken many chances in his life; choosing to skip college in favor of singing lessons had been risky at best, and hadn’t really paid off until Chanyeol came around. But taking chances in love is different: rather than just risking disappointment, it opens the possibility of hurt and heartbreak.

He’s still trying to heal. He’s not ready yet. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to get into a relationship when he’s still so hung up over his ex.

(And can you imagine how awkward the work environment would be if he and Chanyeol got together and broke up? Awful, just awful.)

“Chanyeol’s just a friend,” he finally answers. “Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

Jongdae doesn’t look satisfied, but he presses his mouth into a thin line and averts his eyes.

-

Sometimes, the both of them work late into the night, until the outside world is an inky black blanket speckled with the twinkling lights of stars and streetlights. Usually, Baekhyun takes a cab home, or Chanyeol offers to drive him there.

It is one such night, and they had spent the day recording, rerecording, and editing the vocals for a ballad continuously. Engrossed in their work, neither of them notice when the snow starts to fall. By the time they are finished, the weather is inhospitable enough that sending Baekhyun home is quite out of the question.

“You can stay here for the night,” Chanyeol offers. “It’s like a blizzard outside; there’s no way you’ll be able to get home.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.” Baekhyun’s lids are heavy with sleep, and there is a line of drool crawling unnoticed down his chin. Chanyeol half suspects that it’s not so much that he doesn’t want to impose as it is a half-hearted observation of basic etiquette.

Chanyeol yawns as he stretches. “I’m sure,” he replies encouragingly. “And you’re not an imposition, you’re my friend.” He stands, leaving the mess untouched- he’ll be up in a few hours anyway, so it’s not worth putting in the effort to clean it up.

His generosity is rewarded with a sleepy smile.

Usually, the two of them head straight to the studio, so it’s really Baekhyun’s first time in the apartment proper. Drowsy and in an unfamiliar place, he simply stands looking lost and confused. “I don’t know where to go,” he admits with a sheepish grin. He looks to Chanyeol for guidance, who takes him by the wrist and leads him down the hallway, stopping in front of the master bedroom.

Though the apartment had come with three rooms, Chanyeol had converted one to an office and the other to the recording studio. Guests were not something he had ever anticipated- not with his limited social circle.

The bedroom he concedes to Baekhyun, knowing that it’s more important for the talent to be in tip-top condition than it is for the producer. “Since you’re going to be singing,” Chanyeol explains patiently as he opens the door, “You need the sleep more than I do. I’m just going to be fiddling with the tracks for a bit- I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly,” Baekhyun retorts. “I feel horrible enough as it is. There’s no way I’m going to steal your bed.” He glances inside. “You have a king bed anyway,” he notes. “We can just share it.”

Chanyeol clears his throat. He’s not sure that’s a good idea, but he lacks the energy to put up any sort of resistance. “Um… sure. We can do that.” He pauses, considering. “Do you want to bathe first or…” At Baekhyun’s eager nod, he continues, “The bathroom is accessible from the bedroom. I’ll try to find some clothes that’ll fit you while you’re showering.” He still has some of the clothes he wore in middle school before his growth spurts. He thinks.

It takes him a while to find the clothes, but he is eventually able to scrounge together a pair of pajamas- they don’t match, but he thinks that matters little in the scheme of things. He’s about to open the bathroom door, when the reality of the situation hits him- Baekhyun will probably be in the bathtub. Naked.

He swallows nervously, and tries not to overthink the situation, knowing that if he lets his imagination run too wild, the situation can become exceedingly awkward very quickly. He knocks on the door, and detachedly asks, “Can I come in?”

No response. Perturbed, Chanyeol knocks once more, before pressing his ear to the door. “Hello?”

Again, silence. Worry overtaking any other emotion he is feeling, Chanyeol opens the door and looks around.

Baekhyun is in the bathtub, up to his neck in water, his modesty somewhat preserved by sparse bubbles. His eyes are closed, his mouth is slightly ajar, and he’s lightly snoring. It makes for a picturesque image- something like a sensual Botticelli painting- and it sends the blood rushing to Chanyeol’s face, crotch, and his ears. He stands, frozen, his eyes wide and glassy as he takes in the scene. After gaping for a moment or two, he picks his jaw off of the ground and collects himself. “Get a grip on yourself, Park,” he mutters. He crouches down beside the tub, and shakes the other man gently in an effort to rouse him.

“Hey Baek,” Chanyeol whispers. “You need to get up. If you sleep in the bath, you’ll get hypothermia.”

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Baekhyun pushes himself into a sitting position. “Holy shit, did I fall asleep?” he wonders aloud, his voice husky. “I must be more tired than I thought.”

“You’ve been working hard,” Chanyeol agrees with a nod. “So why don’t you get dressed and head to bed? You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Baekhyun says, smiling up with blear eyes. He stands then, water sliding off his body in rivulets as he does so.

“Uh…” Chanyeol doesn’t really know what to do, so he stands there awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I- I’m just going to go. Come out whenever you’re done, yeah?”

After registering the words, Baekhyun appears to realize his state of undress, and a pretty blush spreads from his face to his shoulders. He makes a belated move to cover himself, and Chanyeol takes that as his cue to leave.

He’s been looking forward to a warm, soothing bath all day, but so much for that- it seems like a cold shower is in order.

-

Chanyeol awakens to bright sunlight filtering through the blinds and onto his face, blankets bunched up thickly at the foot of the bed, and some lovely morning wood tenting his boxers. A small body sleepily burrows closer to his own, and instinctively, he curls around said body. His mind is delightfully blank, and he just lays there, enjoying the feel of his soft bed and sheets, as well as a warmth of his companion. His first thought, funnily enough, is that extra cost was definitely worth the high thread count.

His second thought is a lot less idyllic. Oh shit.

-

“So I know you told Kyungsoo that you’re just friends,” says Jongin between deep breaths, “But I think that’s a crock of bullshit. I think you want to bang him, and then cuddle his tiny body.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, and then has to wipe the sweat out of them. He has enough self-awareness not to attempt a protest of denial, and enough self-respect not to hide his growing feelings behind a barefaced lie. “I like to think it’s a little bit more than that,” he remarks dryly, thinking back to all the mushy emotions he had felt at the ice cream parlor. It makes him a little embarrassed now, and his cheeks are warm as a result, but he figures he can always blame that on overexertion. “I’m not that shallow.”

They are together in the gym, both slaving away on treadmills. While Jongin is running to maintain his low body-fat percentage for a comeback, Chanyeol is attempting to outrun his feelings and his sexual frustration. Though he isn’t as close to Jongin as he is to Kyungsoo, Chanyeol for some reason feels a little more comfortable divulging his burgeoning feelings to his gym buddy than his best friend.

“I’ve seen him around,” Jongin says slyly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you _were_ that shallow. That’s one fine piece of ass.” Chanyeol sighs, suddenly remembering exactly why that is- the younger man can always be trusted to focus on the shallowest things, and to gloss over more problematic issues.

Though he is reluctant to broach the topic any more than strictly necessary, he is even more loath to leave anyone with a greasy misinterpretation of his intentions. “It’s not just about his ass,” Chanyeol grumbles, “or any other body part. There are plenty of people with nice parts. His personality is intriguing, and he gets my creative juices flowing.”

“And other juices, I bet.” The crude words are accompanied with a leer.

Chanyeol internally vows to never speak with Jongin about these things again. “You,” he groans, “are a waste of air.” It’s a harsh insult, but he doesn’t really mean it, and friendship is meant to weather such things. Jongin seems to be taking the words in stride, grinning cheekily.

For a while, they jog in a companionable silence. Though Jongin is a little obnoxious, Chanyeol looks upon this trait fondly- although he is about as mature as a kid in primary school, he can always be counted on to lift spirits.

Deciding to flip the tables on the younger man, Chanyeol waits until Jongin is taking a drink of water before inquiring, “How is it going with Kyungsoo?”

The resulting spit take is rather by the book, but Chanyeol tries his utmost to savor it in spite of that.

-

Article: Teasers released for Baekhyun debut.

1\. [+340, -10] He looks jjang ㅠㅠ there are a lot of flower boys on the market, but somehow he stands out.

2\. [+209, -25] He’s the one working with Park Chanyeol, right?

3\. [+125, -147] It’s been a long time since a decent soloist was released.

4\. [+90, -132] what is this concept?? Is D.O. trying to put out a soloist with a choding concept??

-

“The day we broke up,” Baekhyun says haltingly, “We fought about the future. About our plans.”

Chanyeol looks up in surprise, and a flurry of various emotions flit through him, some simultaneously. Though a short while ago Baekhyun had declined to share about his relationship, he is now doing so without any prompting. It speaks volumes about the accelerated rate at which their friendship is developing that such milestones are being reached so quickly.

It’s difficult to make sense of Baekhyun’s statement though. “Wait,” Chanyeol says, confused. “Did you guys disagree or…”

“She thought I wasn’t being realistic,” comes the explanation. “She told me it was a pipe dream, that it wouldn’t happen.” A harsh laugh. “It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. We were having some financial problems,” Baekhyun acknowledges. “I guess she wanted me to think more practically. But she never gave me the choice. She didn’t even give me an ultimatum. After one of our fights, she just packed everything up and left.”

There is a silence, as Chanyeol does his best to process this information. That’s what most relationships boil down to, he thinks. A choice. “Would you have picked her?” He wonders aloud.

Dark eyes find his, and hold them with an intense stare. “I don’t know,” Baekhyun confesses, averting his gaze, and it’s suddenly very clear why he was so reluctant to share before- the guilt still has him in a choking stranglehold.

The answer is not what Chanyeol wanted to hear- it strikes a nerve in him, opens a wound that never really closed from back when Yifan left him. It isn’t his style to lash out, so he doesn’t. He keeps himself focused on his work, trying not to let his emotions overtake him, doing his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. It’s none of his business anyway.

Baekhyun takes the silence as a tacit invitation to continue. “I still wish she would have given me the chance to decide,” he says. There isn’t anger behind his words, but the bitterness is heavy and palpable. 

He’s talking about his ex-girlfriend, but Chanyeol can’t help feeling maligned. It’s someone else’s story, but the details fit so perfectly with his own that an indignant anger surges within him. Perhaps, like him, the other party was simply misunderstood. It’s easy to imagine himself in those shoes, because he’s walked that path before. 

“Maybe she didn’t want to force that decision on you,” he retorts before he can stop himself. “Think about it. If she _had_ given you an ultimatum, and you chose her, do you think you could keep yourself from resenting her for it?” Chanyeol wants to say more, but although he stops himself, they can both hear the phantom words.

Looking very taken aback at the unexpectedly emphatic response, Baekhyun seems to consider his words. “I never thought of it like that,” he mumbles, sounding lost and stumped.

Knowing that he had overreacted, Chanyeol sighs and rubs his temples. “Or maybe she was just an idiot,” he allows reluctantly, because that is in fact a possibility. “I don’t know the details like you do, so take what I say with a grain of salt.”

“Yeah, okay,” Baekhyun says, but there is a misty look in his eyes, and Chanyeol doesn’t know what it means.

They work late that day, productivity heightened by their unwillingness to pursue conversation of substance, for fear of embroiling themselves in another fight. He flies through the production for several tracks, and though they sound a bit rough, he can always polish them later. Baekhyun’s vocals are not as smooth as usual either- the raw huskiness of emotion, Chanyeol thinks. Everyone is ruled by their feelings after all.

When he notices Baekhyun yawning and rubbing his eyes sleepily, it is hours later, and the fiery sentiment between them has mostly dissipated. “Want to go and grab a coffee?” Chanyeol offers, still feeling rather guilty about his explosion earlier that day. “My treat?”

“You have coffee?” Baekhyun asks dubiously, scratching his chin unattractively. “I doubt any cafes are open this late.”

“I have a Keurig,” Chanyeol admits, “But I’m pretty much out of K-Cups, unless you want some of that watery chai stuff. I was actually planning to go grab some canned coffee at the bodega down the street.”

Baekhyun wrinkles his nose, but stands nonetheless. “Coffee is coffee I guess,” he decides, sounding uncertain about it all. “It’s not like I’m particularly picky about coffee of all things. Near brushes with homelessness tend to put things into perspective.”

Chanyeol smiles (in what he hopes is a _particularly_ winning manner) as he pulls on his jacket. “That sure turned around fast, huh? Now you’re going to debut in a few months.”

When Baekhyun’s eyes flit up to meet his, Chanyeol is floored by their expressiveness. It’s not a wholly unfamiliar look- mostly, it’s the look of wonderment that he sees the shorter man sport from time to time, as if he can’t believe that everything is happening for him. But this time, there are a myriad of others mixed in- vulnerability, gratitude.

“It’s thanks to you,” Baekhyun replies. “You helped me get to where I am.”

Though the words are complimentary- and though there is much truth to them- they send a discontented chill down Chanyeol’s spine. He appreciates the acknowledgement of his efforts on Baekhyun’s behalf, but he doesn’t want the basis of their friendship- or relationship, or whatever- to be founded on such unstable grounds. The lines between gratitude and obligation are blurry at best, he thinks, and it would be unwise to straddle it.

“Give yourself some credit,” he says quietly, grabbing his keys from the table. He reaches over and pats the smaller man on the back. “You’ve worked hard as well.”

From the self-deprecating laugh that escapes from Baekhyun, Chanyeol can tell that the topic is far from resolved, but he decides that they will have plenty of time in the future to iron out their issues. Coffee is, after all, a pressing matter.

-

The life that winter had stripped from the world is returned in lush fullness by the timely advent of spring. Birds dart from tree to tree, filling the air with their sweet song, while flowers bloom in quiet patches by the sides of the road. Chanyeol is able to appreciate all this on his daily morning walk, thanks to the mystical powers of caffeine.

He’s on his weekly trip to the supermarket, which is a step forward for him, honestly. Typically, he has thai food boxed off and delivered to his door, mainly because he wouldn’t know multigrain from bin-bin crackers. But today, armed with a grocery list courtesy of Luhan, he is ready to rejoin society as a fully functional citizen.

It’s a little funny how he’s able to appreciate the little things a lot more after being cooped up for so long. The smells of the fresh produce, the sweet promises of ice cream cartons, the funny look of uncooked meat: a diet consisting entirely of takeout and the occasional microwaved meal robs you of that experience.

He means to ignore the tabloid stand at the cash register, he really does. There are just some things that he doesn’t want to see again, and Kris’s face is one of them. Unfortunately, Korea seems to really like Kris’s face, so it’s plastered in tabloids everywhere.

But something catches his eye among the tabloid rack- a headline. Quickly, he snatches a magazine off of the shelf to examine more closely.

 _Suho and Kris Break-Up_ , it reads, in the dramatic bold text that often accompany such lurid stories. He flips to the page where the article is printed, catching words like _cheating_ and _drinking_. Allowing the magazine to flip closed, he closes his eyes and tries to sort through his feelings. Strangely enough, there is no surge of hope, only the satisfaction of righteous justice.

-

It had been hurtling at him with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop, and somehow he hadn’t seen it coming.

Though they spend a significant amount of time together laying down tracks and working on the album, Chanyeol doesn’t constantly have Baekhyun to himself- the latter has to set aside part of his schedule to work with choreographers to devise and practice dance routines. So occasionally, he is left alone in his studio, cut off from his muse and devoid of inspiration. On such days, he takes it easy, and sometimes goes on longer breaks to treat himself.

On one such day, Chanyeol is on his lunch break, reveling in the joy of delicious food. While he isn’t in possession of the most discerning palate, he does consider himself cultured enough to comprehend certain qualities of food, and the pasta carbonara he has decided to treat himself to is some of the best stuff he’s ever had. He digs in with gusto, and mentally makes a note to revisit the restaurant sometime in the future.

Though he typically silences his phone during mealtimes, he had forgotten to do so in his eagerness to dig in. So when one of the tinny default ringtone plays, it takes Chanyeol a while to realize that the phone at fault is, in fact, his own. Checking the caller ID elicits a frown- though Luhan is an obnoxious friend at times, he has always been generally respectful of the sacred status of lunch break.

Though not necessarily the case, Chanyeol can’t help but imagine that his friend’s failure to adhere to the unspoken rule indicates something pressing, urgent. Looking around, he gauges whether he can take the call at the table- the noisy dining family sitting close by suggests otherwise. Giving his pasta a look filled with longing and heartbreak, he hastens to the restroom to take the call.

“What’s so important that you decided to interrupt my lunch break?” Chanyeol hisses, deciding to forego greetings. He slams the stall closed and locks it, having no desire to draw the eyes of the other people doing their business.

“Are you sitting down?” The concern in Luhan’s voice is evident, even through the noisy telephone static. “You might want to sit down for this.”

Though he had considered the possibility of bad news, the vindication of his expectations are met with frazzled nerves. Quickly, he runs through the various possibilities of what bad news might be broken to him- perhaps the stocks he and Luhan had invested in had all crashed, or maybe something had happened to one of their mutual friends. “What is it?” Chanyeol presses.

A deep breath on the other end. “Yifan is back in Korea,” Luhan answers solemnly. “He asked me to set up a meeting with you.”

Chanyeol blinks. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. The anxiety he had been feeling moments earlier has transformed into a roiling mixture of feelings he can’t even begin to identify. He squeezes his eyes shut, and wills himself not to shake, not to feel anything.

Goddamnit. He is so fucking close to putting it behind him, and then fate walks in, fucks everything up, and throws it into his face sadistically. In retrospect, he should have known this moment would come, from the moment he had read about Yifan and Junmyeon’s breakup.

Both he and Luhan are silent for quite a while. He can’t trust himself to speak- Chanyeol fears that if he opens up even a little, all the feelings that he has tried so hard to leave behind him will hurtle to the surface. Chanyeol’s always known why he had been left behind- though they had taken the industry by storm as a team, it had never been enough for Yifan, who has always held big dreams and goals. It’s just a truth he’s always accepted, and it’s something he’s dealt with. But if he hears the words, the truth, then he’s not sure he can survive that pain a second time.

Eventually, he finds his tongue. “I- I don’t think I want to talk to him,” Chanyeol stammers. Though he does his best to control his tone, he can tell that he sounds the slightest bit pathetic anyway. It doesn’t even matter: he just needs to get his point across at all costs.

“Don’t you think you have things to sort out? Don’t you need closure?” Luhan pushes, and Chanyeol can just imagine him shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s just a meeting, Yeol, you don’t have to take him back or anything. You deserve an apology, at the very least, after what he did to you.”

“No,” Chanyeol says adamantly. He’s not sure if meeting up with Yifan is something that he needs, but he knows for a fact that it’s the last thing he wants to do right now. “I- I’ve moved on. Meeting him will just reopen wounds, you know? That’s not something I really need right now.”

If he thinks about it, he has moved on- sort of. While the air between him and Yifan is not quite clear, he knows himself well enough to be able to definitively say that he has put the relationship in the past. It’s a memory that’s been written, and then put away under lock and key. It’s not a fond one he’d like to revisit, not a door he wants to reopen in the slightest.

There’s no longing there anymore, just sadness.

Sadness and fear. If he’s being honest with himself, there’s also a fear there- Yifan hadn’t just left Chanyeol, he had left him in broken pieces. It had taken him forever to glue himself back together, and though whole, he was still fragile. There is a fear there- the fear that he would shatter once more, this time irreparably. All it would take is a few careless shakes.

Some shuffling is audible on the other end of the line, but when Luhan starts talking again, Chanyeol can tell from his tone that he’s won. “I’ll think of something,” he offers resignedly. “I’ll tell him you’ve left the country or something. I don’t know.” 

“Thanks Luhan. You’re a real friend.” 

Chanyeol ends the call and leaves the stall, determined not to dwell. There are some people staring at him, who have undoubtedly eavesdropped into the conversation, but he can’t bring himself to care one bit. Instead, he simply rushes to the sink, and splashes some cold water onto his face. He searches his eyes, but they- like his mind- are empty vessels.

When he finally returns to his carbonara, it is cold and stale, like a missed opportunity.

He flags down the waiter. “I’d like to order something else.”

-

Article: Kris Wu returns to Korea.

1\. [+1,374, -207] Welcome back Kris-ge

2\. [+839, -389] guess he wasn’t making enough money in China ㅋㅋㅋ

3\. [+600, -103] I hope he and Chanyeol work on another album together… the last one was top-notch.

-

Sleep is one of the few refuges Chanyeol has where he is safe from the world. Free of shackling responsibilities, free of heavy memories, free of pesky thought and emotion. Sleep is a haven, and a sacred one too. Chanyeol’s not in the habit of setting alarms, because he believes that sleep should be allowed to progress to a natural end.

So when the phone rings and disturbs his slumber, he is a little dispirited. Nothing seems to be going his way these days, he thinks, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed and feeling around his dresser blindly for his cell phone.

His spirits lift when he checks the Caller ID and finds that Baekhyun is on the other end of the line. Feeling his lips quirk into a half-smile, Chanyeol picks up his phone and brings it to his ear. “Hey Baek.” He greets.

“Chanyeol,” His voice is even and pleasant, the perfect image of nonchalance, but there’s an undercurrent of energy beneath the veneer of calm. Chanyeol can just imagine the shorter man bouncing on his toes. “Are you busy right now?”

“Not particularly,” Chanyeol answers. The only thing that had been on his itinerary was sleep, and then lazing about on his bed with laptop (and maybe some league.) He has plans, sure, but he isn’t busy. Not by a long shot.

He hears an endearing giggle through the receiver, and it brings a goofy smile to his own face. “The amusement park is having a promotion,” Baekhyun explains. “Couples get in for the price of one. I need a plus one. I asked Jongdae, but he’s too busy running his café. So I thought to myself, _Byun Baekhyun, who would be willing to pretend to be a couple for the sake of riding rides?_ ”

Well, he’s already awake anyway. “Sounds like fun,” Chanyeol yawns, sitting up and stretching. It’s a better plan than spending the entire day cooped up in his house alone, anyway. It’ll be nice to have a companion that isn’t a bad memory. “I’m in.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Baekhyun’s grin is practically audible, and it brings a smile to Chanyeol’s face. “Can we meet up at ten? That’s when it opens.”

He checks his clock again, noting that ten is still a couple of hours away. Just enough time for him to freshen up and snag some breakfast. “Ten sounds good,” Chanyeol answers, throwing off the cover and slipping out of bed. He grabs some clothes from the closet en route to the bathroom. “See you there, Baek.”

-

When Baekhyun hangs up the phone, he hears a squealing sound behind him. Perturbed, he turns around, ¬¬ groaning aloud when he sees Jongdae practically bouncing in excitement.

“It’s a date, isn’t it?” His friend guesses, looking genuinely excited. “You’re going on a date with Chanyeol.”

With a private smile, Baekhyun slips his phone back into his pocket. “Well,” he hedges. “It might be a date. That’s what I was angling for.” He hopes that he’s reading the situation correctly; Chanyeol seems less of a take-charge individual, and more on the awkward side, so Baekhyun had decided to make the first move instead.

-

Baekhyun stands there at the gate, a pair of sunglasses on his face and a duffel bag tossed over his shoulder. When he spots Chanyeol, he pads over in his flip flops, smiling sunnily all the while.

“You ready?” he inquires, linking their arms and peering up, sunglasses adorably tilting askew.

With a grin, Chanyeol leans over and pushes the sunglasses back up the bridge of Baekhyun’s nose. “Fuck yeah I’m ready,” he declares boastfully, raising one fist in a mock cheer.

The entry line is quite long, but Chanyeol doesn’t really mind. He minds it even less when Baekhyun, tired, decides to lean more heavily into his shoulder. He schools his face into as impassive an expression he can manage, but it’s much more difficult to control the blush he feels creeping down his neck.

“You’re burning already?” Baekhyun frowns, craning his head for a better look at Chanyeol’s neck. “I have sunscreen in the duffel bag. You want some of it?”

Alright, so apparently, he’s not that great at controlling the blush. Whatever.

Luckily, they are next in line, so Chanyeol tosses an arm over Baekhyun and sweeps him closer, before peering into the ticket booth. “Two day passes please,” he says cheerfully.

-

“You’re good at basketball, right Chanyeol?”

Baekhyun’s eyes are mischievous, and the way he looks back and forth between Chanyeol and the midway game is especially alarming. Chanyeol’s shoulder is still sore- the shorter man had practically torn his arm out of the socket while dragging him over to the game booth.

“What? No.” Chanyeol guffaws at the question. He doesn’t know what had led Baekhyun to such conclusions, but he needs to disabuse the other of any and all such notions immediately. “I haven’t so much as touched a basketball since high school.”

Pouting, Baekhyun heaves a sigh. “I guess it can’t be helped then,” he remarks sadly.

Chanyeol gives in, because _who_ can be heardhearted enough to resist that? Rolling up his sleeves with a sigh, he steps up to the stand. “I’m going to fail,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “I’m going to utterly fail, and it will be humiliating.”

Baekhyun cheers and claps his hands excitedly. “I have faith in you, Yeol,” he says earnestly, though the way his eyes twinkle in amusement implies otherwise.

“You just want to see me fail.”

Utterly out of practice, Chanyeol is unable to score a single point. Baekhyun doesn’t seem overly disappointed- he still has a gleeful smile on his face as the last ball bounces off the rim uselessly.

“At least you tried,” Baekhyun said patronizingly, stepping on tiptoe to pat his much taller companion on the head.

-

“We shouldn’t have ridden the water coaster,” Baekhyun admonishes with a shiver. His teeth are chattering wildly, and though he holds his drenched shoulders, he cannot suppress their shaking. Chanyeol worries his lower lip, even though his mind is relatively blank. His only thought is that, in hindsight, riding a water coaster in the middle of winter hadn’t been the most responsible of choices. Deciding that there’s nothing they can do about it now, he simply steers them toward a drying station.

The drying station, Chanyeol will freely admit, is a work of genius. Whoever designed the contraption should be awarded a Nobel prize for their contribution to society and the general welfare of mankind. Nevertheless, there is something to be said about stepping into a booth that is essentially a glorified blow dryer. He feels a little self-conscious- it seems almost silly to stand there. He feels like a piece of bread in a toaster oven.

Baekhyun has no such qualms. The shorter man is rubbing himself like a kitten against the vents to bask in the hot air, sighing happily. After a moment of blissful contentment, he pulls the front of his shirt up and holds it against the vent, ostensibly to speed the drying process.

 _Fuck it,_ Chanyeol decides. He’s not really getting any dryer by trying to hold on to whatever shreds of his dignity still remain. Deciding to eschew his reservations, he allows himself to totally relax and lean toward the warmth of the booth. He knows that he looks like an overgrown child in doing so, but it’s really, really worth it.

He’s in an amusement park. He’s been feeling real shitty. He has the right to act childish, and fuck anyone who wants to judge him.

“It was fun anyway,” He decides with a wide grin, his eyes flicking down to meet Baekhyun’s. Go hard or go home; never let it be said that Park Chanyeol did anything by halves. “No regrets. Right?” He prods the shorter man in a half-hearted attempt to pressure out the answer he wants.

Quirking his lip, Baekhyun shakes his head. “We’ll see how you feel about it when you wake up with pneumonia,” he remarks wryly, having shifted to expose a different area on his shirt to the heat.

Grin never faltering, Chanyeol leans over and throws an arm across his companion’s shoulder in a show of fraternal camaraderie. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so _comfortable_ around someone. With his closest friends, he always feels like he has to prove his well-being. With Baekhyun, he doesn’t have to prove anything.

Abruptly, the flow of hot air ceases, causing Baekhyun to frown disappointedly. “I’m not even dry yet,” he complains, squeezing his shirt for emphasis, the water droplets hitting the ground punctuating his point.

Chanyeol laughs. “C’mon Baek,” he says, playfully tugging his reluctant companion out of the booth. “It’s just your shirt, right? We can use the hand dryers in the bathroom.” Because there’s no way in hell he’s springing even a thousand won for just a minute of hot air. What a rip-off.

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow and smiles wryly, but makes no comment.

The bathroom is thankfully empty, no one to witness their shameful deeds. Hurriedly, Baekhyun makes his way to the hand dryer and holds his shirt to it. Chanyeol follows two steps behind, unable to banish his ever present smile.

“Your shirt is still sopping wet,” Chanyeol notes.

Rolling his eyes, Baekhyun shakes his head. “Nice observation, genius,” he retorts dryly, rolling his eyes for an exaggerated effect. Though the flow of air has yet to cease, he slams one of his palms on the button in order to prolong the duration.

There is a lull in the conversation as Baekhyun pulls his shirt up to his neck, scrunches it up, and presses it against the hand-dryer. With no dryer at his own disposal, Chanyeol grabs a handful of his shirt and attempts to wring all the water out of it and into the sink. He glances at Baekhyun as he does so, smiling fondly as he watches the smaller man angles the dryer nozzle for better coverage.

“It still gets damn cold in the evening,” Baekhyun notes worriedly. “I hope I don’t get sick.”

Watching the shorter man shiver, Chanyeol takes pity on him. “Are you dry yet? Come on, let’s head to the gift shop. I’ll buy you a sweater or something.”

Baekhyun looks conflicted, as though torn between his desire to accept the kindness, and his inclination to decline. “I-I… hmm…”

“We can’t have you getting ill,” Chanyeol pointed out, placing both hands on his shoulders and steering him. “You have a strict schedule as it is; if you end up sick, we’ll be even further behind. And Kyungsoo will have my ass mounted for it.”

Relaxing, Baekhyun snorted. “What ass?” He asked skeptically, leaning backwards to inspect Chanyeol’s ass. Feeling intensely embarrassed, Chanyeol moved his hand to the back of Baekhyun’s head and shoved it forward, smiling faintly at the resulting indignant yelp. “It’s not my fault you have no ass,” Baekhyun grumbles. 

They walk into the store together, feeling the cozy warmth of the heaters surround them. Chanyeol immediately heads for the clothing area to obtain the sweater he had promised Baekhyun, while the other lagged behind, browsing around and window shopping.

“What size are you, Baek?” Chanyeol wonders.

“Medium.”

Chanyeol looks up and down at Baekhyun’s form skeptically. “Are you sure you’re not a small?” he questions dubiously.

The shorter man rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Yes, I think I _do_ know my size, thank you very much Chanyeol,” he retorts, but there’s a twinkle in his eye and his lips are twitching wildly.

He’s in the middle of debating whether he should buy Baekhyun the sweater or the hoodie (the hoodie has cat ears and a whisker design!!) when the man in question beckons him over. Setting the garments back on the shelves, he obediently makes his way over.

Baekhyun points to a beat-up box on the self. _Mood Rings_ , its label read, and mood rings they are indeed: swirls of color, all lined up in rows and rows. Chanyeol watches as Baekhyun picks one up and tries it one. It takes a moment to jumpstart, but a wave of color begins to overtake the ring at a sluggish pace.

“I haven’t had one of these in years,” he says happily, holding his hand in the air to admire it.

Chanyeol notes the blue color of the ring, before squinting at the chart. “You’re feeling… angry?”

Guffawing, Baekhyun shakes his head. “No one ever accused these of being accurate,” he answers. “But they’re fun anyway.” He points to the stand beside the mood rings. “Look, they’ve got mood bracelets, mood necklaces… it’s like a mood emporium!”

Maybe Baekhyun’s excitement is contagious, or maybe he _is_ fascinated after all, but Chanyeol finds himself inspecting a mood pendant thoughtfully. While he doesn’t put much stock in their ability, they _do_ seem like amusing trinkets nonetheless.

“Come on then,” Chanyeol says cheerfully. “Bring it to the cash register. We can both get some mood rings.”

Baekhyun cheers energetically, obviously happy about the prospect.

Decked out in the slightly oversized kitty hoodie (“I told you that you weren’t a medium!”) and his silly mood ring, Baekhyun looks laughably childish. It’s endearing, really, and he can’t stop a fond smile from coming over his face.

Baekhyun frowns, interpreting his reaction wrongly. “Stop staring,” he commands self-consciously, wriggling in an attempt to pull his hand from Chanyeol’s grip. “Do I look ridiculous? I look ridiculous, don’t I?”

For a moment, Chanyeol considers not letting go of the hand. It would certainly get his point across, and if not then a well-timed intense gaze probably would. Ultimately though, he doesn’t have the balls to make that kind of move. His hand clenches around emptiness, feeling strangely bereft.

Neither of them are really paying attention to where they’re going, so it’s little to no surprise when they bump into someone. Or more specifically, Baekhyun does.

“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry-” he abruptly stops, still gaping widely at the girl he bumped into.

She’s rubbing her shoulder and giving him a wan smile. “Hi Baekhyun,” she greets him. “Didn’t expect to see you around here.”

Chanyeol observes, with a sinking heart, the solemn expression on Baekhyun’s face, as well as the longing look in his eyes. It’s easy to guess who the stranger is now: there is little doubt in his mind that the short, pretty young woman before them is Baekhyun’s ex-girlfriend.

“H-hey Taeyeon,” the other man stutters while scratching his head, and suddenly Chanyeol feels like an intruder. 

“I’ll just leave you two to talk then,” he says unhappily, but neither of them acknowledge him anyway. He feels peculiarly blank as he walks to a nearby bench to sit. For a few moments, he debates watching them, but ultimately decides against it. Instead, he pulls out his phone and fiddles with it for a bit: tech toys have always provided an excellent source of entertainment, he reasons.

After besting his flappy bird score three times, Chanyeol notes with some disappointment that the two are still talking. They appear to have migrated to the shade below a tree, sitting side by side on the grass. And they look good together, he decides.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he stands up. Awkwardly hovering and watching isn’t healthy: he’s in an amusement park, and there are literally so many things he could be doing right now. Arbitrarily, he chooses a roller-coaster in his peripheral vision. With determination in his gait, he walks over to the start of the line.

-

It’s dark outside before Chanyeol receives the text. After hours of riding rides and enjoying himself, he’d retired to a remote hill somewhere in the park to wait for the fireworks. As far as he can see, there seem to be mainly couples and families; he’s the only one who’s by himself. The observation makes him feel a little lonely if he thinks it over too hard, so he keeps his eyes to the sky.

He’s startled when the phone in his pocket vibrates. Efficiently, he whips it out and taps the screen impatiently, until his notifications show up.

**From Baekhyun: where r u**

His fingers are hovering over the tiny keyboard, ready to type in his response, when he realizes that he doesn’t exactly know. He hadn’t bothered to pick up a map, and besides, it was too dark to read one anyway.

And besides. There’s a part of him that feels a little petty. It’s really tempting not to reply.

But in the end, he does. Partly because he’s not a child, and partly because there’s still some semblance of hope within his heart, trying desperately to burrow its way to the surface. He casts a glance at the nearest attraction to get a general sense of where he was situated, before turning his attention back to the phone.

**To Baekhyun: im by the Pyongyang coaster**

Pocketing his phone, he turns his attention back to the night sky. The darkness of the new moon allows the dim stars to twinkle more radiantly, and he had little doubt that the fireworks show would be amazing.

The first sparklers are exploding in the air when he feels the grass sink beside him. A sideways glance reveals to him that Baekhyun has seated himself there, an uncertain expression on his face.

“Hey,” he smiles, acknowledging the other’s presence. He doesn’t know that he has much to say to Baekhyun, not now. “The fireworks are just starting; you got here just in time.”

“Listen,” Baekhyun begins apologetically, “I’m sorry about that. I just needed to clear the air with Taeyeon a bit. Get some closure, you know?”

Shrugging Chanyeol reclines. “It’s not like you walked out on me in the middle of a date or anything,” he says, laughing it off, even if that’s exactly how it felt like. His laugh sounds brittle and fake even to himself.

“Oh.” Baekhyun sounds a little bit disheartened, which Chanyeol really wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t spent so much time with him in the last few months. But when the fireworks light up the air around them, he can see that there’s a _look_ on his face as he quickly averts his gaze. Chanyeol begins to suspect that, perhaps, Baekhyun had intended for this to be a date after all.

He doesn’t have the audacity to voice his questions aloud- not yet, anyway. He’s still learning the ropes with this interaction thing. He doesn’t trust himself to say a word without getting tongue tied. Instead, he scoots closer, and reaches an arm around Baekhyun’s waist.

Baekhyun looks up at him with a surprised look.

“Let’s watch the fireworks, Baek,” Chanyeol says happily, pulling them in closer together and pointing toward the sky. Above them, another shower of sparks bloom, imbuing everything with a simmering blue glow.

Hesitantly, Baekhyun leans into his shoulder, and together they watch the skies.

-

They’re barely through the door, and they’re already a mess of tangled limbs. Baekhyun walks in front, pushing the door open with a clumsy haste, while Chanyeol hovers behind him, taking any opportunity to kiss and nip at his neck.

It messes with Baekhyun’s coordination just a little bit, and it takes him quite a few fumbles before the door flies open. Grabbing the taller man’s hands, he leads the both of them into the bedroom. With a winning smile, Baekhyun sits down on the bed, before pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing a smooth expanse of milky white skin.

Chanyeol is about to join him, when he remembers that the lube is in the closet. He retrieves it hastily, shedding his clothes all the while, and when he has returned to Baekhyun’s side, they are both completely naked. He sets it down on the ground beside the bed, and keeps his attention solely on Baekhyun.

He feels an urge to say something complimentary- maybe _you’re so beautiful_ or something equally cheesy. But, (luckily for him) the smarter half of his brain manages to catch up to, and strangle the thought before it evolves into anything tangible. Instead of words, Chanyeol gently pushes Baekhyun onto the bed, and angles a fond gaze into his eyes. He hopes that it says everything that he can’t.

Distantly, he can feel hands running up and down his shoulders, but he doesn’t think much of it. He can’t think much of anything, not really, not like this. It’s all impulse and instinct as he lowers his head down and licks a stripe across Baekhyun’s mouth, which slackens to allow him entry.

The taste isn’t literally sweet, of course, but there’s metaphorical sweetness in their kiss. Experimentally, he laps at the roof of Baekhyun’s mouth, before probing deeper with his tongue. 

As Baekhyun’s hands trail lower, Chanyeol finds it difficult to suppress his shivers. It’s not his first time, but it’s been a very long time, and his body is extra sensitive. He moans into Baekhyun’s mouth when a hand takes his member in a firm grip, before jacking it up and down in rapid strokes.

Not wanting to cum prematurely, he pulls away, absentmindedly licking his lips as he takes in the scene before him. It’s quite a sight to see Baekhyun staring up at him from under glazed, half-lidded eyes. His tousled hair is a fan against the wrinkled fabric of his pillowcase. Chanyeol does his best to commit everything to memory.

“I hope you douched,” are the eloquent words that slip through his mouth, and his eyes widen after he registers what he just said. Fuck, he hopes that he hasn’t just killed the mood.

Luckily, Baekhyun seems to find it funny rather than offensive. He laughs freely, his eyes scrunching up into small discs. “Don’t worry big guy,” he reassures. “You’re not going to get shitdick.”

Carefully, he rolls the condom onto his length. It feels a little tight and constricting around him (maybe he should have purchased a different size,) but he can’t be too bothered about it now. He reaches one hand down to the ground and starts to feel around for the bottle of lube.

It feels cold on his fingers, so he warms it up in his hands first, not wanting to cause Baekhyun any undue discomfort. When Chanyeol is satisfied with the temperature, he places his fingers at the tight, pink hole and slowly worms his way in.

Baekhyun’s face scrunches up in distaste, but he doesn’t look to be in any pain. Chanyeol’s up to the knuckle now, so he pulls his finger out to the tip before sliding it back in. After a few minutes, he adds a second finger, all the while monitoring Baekhyun’s reactions.

Adding a third finger is what really proves a reaction. He watches with rapt fascination as Baekhyun’s eyes widen, and his pretty mouth opens to allow a soft moan to escape. Wanting to hear it again, Chanyeol angles his fingers differently and tries for the same spot. His efforts are rewarded with another soft moan.

“You should… hurry up,” Baekhyun pants, eyebrow raised in a challenge. “At this rate, I’ll be a fossil before I get any dick.”

Chanyeol shakes his head with a grin. Grabbing his cock, he lines it up to Baekhyun’s entrance. Slowly, he rubs the cockhead around, before pushing against it.

At first, there is some resistance, but then it gives way and the tip of his cock his in Baekhyun. Keeping his eyes on the other man’s face, he slowly begins to slide in.

When he notices Baekhyun’s fingers clenching the sheet, he ceases. “Are you okay?” he asks concernedly.

Releasing a huff of air, Baekhyun nods. “Yeah, yeah I’m great,” he mumbles. “I just haven’t been with a guy for a while, so it’s going to take some getting used to.” He closes his eyes. “Keep going,” he urges.

With a nod, Chanyeol continues on his trajectory inward. It’s such an amazing sight, to watch that tiny hole just devour his dick inch by inch. He can barely comprehend it when he’s fully sheathed; the sight of his hips pressed up against Baekhyun’s, coupled with the sensation of being enveloped in a velvety warmth, is overpowering.

“Holy shit,” Baekhyun mutters, face tense. “You’re fucking huge.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol says meekly, but he feels a burst of pride nevertheless.

Initially, he sets a slow pace: he would gingerly pull his cock out, watching as it emerged from the pink hole little by little. And then, when he was _just barely_ still inside, he would snap his hips forward, the force of the movement jolting both of their bodies.

But it’s not enough for Baekhyun, apparently. “Harder,” he commands, voice scratchy and harsh. “Faster! How the fuck am I supposed to get off like this?”

Chanyeol acquiesces. He pulls himself out slowly one more time, and holds the position to keep Baekhyun in suspense. After a few moments, he thrusts in, and begins to jackhammer away.

The anticipation builds, until eventually he can feel it mix with small jolts of electric pleasure. He’s knows that his climax is close at hand, but Baekhyun still hasn’t cum yet, so he squeezes his buttocks in a desperate attempt to stave off orgasm, trying his best not to let the sensations get through to him quite so much.

When Baekhyun cums, it’s like he’s gotten permission to do so as well. There is a burst of pleasure accompanied by a strong sense of satisfaction as he empties himself into the condom.

-

When Chanyeol finally awakens, Baekhyun is already up and dressed. The other man is sitting at his desk, flipping through one of Chanyeol’s private songbooks.

A month ago, he would have overreacted. He would have gotten all up in arms, thrown a few things around, snatched the songbooks, and quite possibly reduced Baekhyun to tears. There are a lot of beautiful and painful memories associated with that songbook- he had even considered it sacred, once upon a time.

But today, he does none of those things. Instead, he lays there and watches with a smile on his face, thinking to himself how adorable Baekhyun looks in his clothes, and conspiring up other ways to get him to wear them.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Baekhyun finally notices, slamming the songbook shut. “Sorry, I just-”

Chanyeol waves a hand. “It’s not a big deal,” he yawns magnanimously. “Keep reading it if you want.”

Baekhyun glances between him and the songbook inquisitively. “These are beautiful songs,” he notes, curious. “They’re all about love… they’re different from your usual stuff.”

With a laugh, Chanyeol nods. “You could say they are,” he says at length. “They’re all about the same person. My last boyfriend.”

Cocking his head sideways in curiosity, Baekhyun pouts. “You can’t leave it at that!” he complains, but he continues to flip through the sheet music without pushing the topic. “They keep getting sadder,” he says finally, his voice soft.

“Well, yeah,” he points out, with the tone of someone explaining the obvious. “We kind of broke up on less than stellar terms.”

Eyes widening, Baekhyun allows the book to drop back onto the desk. “You should have told me from the start,” he fusses. 

“It’s kind of implied in the _ex_.” Laughing throatily, Chanyeol shakes his head. “And anyway, I’m over it, so you can relax.”

Baekhyun blinks twice. “Okay then,” he decides, scratching his head. He gives the cover a reverent stroke. “These are good songs,” he notes, “You should sell them. There are some fucking brilliant ballads.”

Pursing his lips, Chanyeol gives it some consideration. “I don’t know; it just seems sort of… crass? Like, revealing our private lives to the world. I don’t think he’d like that very much.”

“But these songs aren’t about your private life,” Baekhyun counters. “They’re about your _feelings_.” He leans down to read the words more closely, as if to reassure himself of his own statement. “You should give me one of these to sing,” he tries earnestly. “I think I could do it justice.”

Sighing, Chanyeol slips out of bed and pads over, to take a look at exactly which one Baekhyun wanted.

-

Article: Baekhyun debut showcase

1\. [+2,389, -533] He can actually sing ㅋㅋㅋ 

2\. [+1,836. -230] Do justice to Chanyeol-hyung! Hwaiting…

3\. [+668, -786] Let’s be honest... he only sounds good because the song is good and the mr is loud ㅋㅋㅋ

-

The venue is completely dark save for the stage lights. There’s no one there at the moment aside from the band, but Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun will be ready soon. He’s attended all of the rehearsals, and he knows how it goes, how much time it will take. The schedule might as well be on the back of his hand.

He’s seated in the front row between Kyungsoo and Jongin. Kyungsoo has his eyes glued on the stage (no surprise there; Baekhyun is an investment after all,) and Jongin is scrolling on his phone. The light from the tiny screen sort of disrupts the atmosphere, but nobody calls him out on his atrocious manners.

He’s is pretty sure it’ll be a success. Baekhyun has talent, after all, and Chanyeol is nothing if not confident in his own compositions. He knows which song Baekhyun is singing today- it’s a damn good one, and Baekhyun will handle it admirably.

Kyungsoo tilts his head toward Chanyeol to whisper. “What was up with the last minute track changes to the album?” He doesn’t sound angry or worried, only a little confused. 

Chanyeol smiles at that. “I just had some songs I wanted Baekhyun to sing,” he answers. It satisfies Kyungsoo, who nods thoughtfully. “It’s not like I replaced a bop or anything; most of the cut tracks were filler.”

Though it appears as though Kyungsoo wouldn’t mind pursuing the topic further, the dimming of stage lights calls their attention to the front. Where there had been an empty stage, there was a mic stand now.

Slowly, and with purpose, Baekhyun walks onstage. Maybe Chanyeol is biased, but he thinks that his lover looks every bit the star. There is a serenity in his smile, as well as the sort of ebullience that cannot really be dimmed; he’s living his dream, Chanyeol thinks fondly.

Baekhyun picks up the microphone and holds it close. “Hey everybody,” he smiles with a cheerful wave. “I’m Byun Baekhyun. Please take care of me!”

**Author's Note:**

> will be rewritten eventually. fixes as i find errors.


End file.
